Always
by Len'sMind
Summary: Spain promised Romano he'd stay by his side forever. In his mind, that means he'll stand by his side protecting him from everything. It means he'll never be honest and tell Romano how he truly feels. Sometimes though, the heart decides enough is enough, and has to let everything out. ((You know why it's rated M!))
1. Chapter 1

**_Oh dear... this wasn't what I was meant to do..._**

**_Rated M for language and *cough* stuffs coming soon. _**

**_Hope you enjoy it! ^.^_**

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Chapter One:

The clink of glasses, the clunk of bottles, the lively chatter; together they brought the sounds of three countries sitting together. It was nearing the end of the night, and Spain knew by the blur in his vision that it was almost time for him to head home. France lay sprawled across the sofa, holding a wine glass above him and staring into it as if it were some mystical being. Prussia, meanwhile, continued to ramble on about his latest confrontation with Hungary – not that the others were really listening to him.

"... and then she hit me with the damned frying pan!" he shouted, slamming his beer mug down on the table.

Groaning at the conclusion of the story, Spain sunk further into his armchair. "Ah dios mio! When does she _not _hit you with the blasted frying pan?" Draining the last of his own wine glass, he placed it on the table and pointed at Prussia. "Why don't you just kiss each other already?"

"Kiss!" France squealed from his seat – probably not even listening to the actual conversation.

Grimacing like a child, Prussia threw some half-eaten bread at the Spaniard. "Why kiss someone who's trying to hit you?"

"It's what I do with Roma all the time!" Spain grinned.

His friends exchanged a look France gave a sigh and placed his glass on the floor (albeit shakily).

"I don't recall you telling us that you and the lovely Romano are an item...?" France said pointedly.

"Oh, we're not!"

"Then the kissing...?" Prussia asked, waving his hand for Spain to expand.

Laughing nervously, he rubbed his neck and gave a soft sigh. "It was a joke. Our kisses aren't exactly serious... mostly just me being... well, me." Spain couldn't help but drop his eyes – unable to look at his two friends who were watching him with actual pity.

"And you tell me to kiss Hungary 'already'," Prussia scoffed. "How long have you been drooling over the noisy brat?"

"The term is 'hopelessly in love'!" France corrected him dramatically.

Spain frowned at them. "Cut it out!" His expression turned solemn. "It's not like I can do anything."

"And why's that?"

"Because, he's my Roma!" There wasn't even a trace of humour left in his voice. "It's my job to protect him, to stay by his side forever... I can't betray his trust by telling him... you know."

"Admitting your feelings would be betraying him?" France asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I don't see how that works," Prussia added.

Scratching his head, Spain stood up. "You guys don't get it. I made him a promise that I'd always be by his side, right until the day the world ends," Grabbing his jacket from the chair, Spain pulled his arms through. Pausing once he was done, he gave a small smile. "And that's where I'll be. By his side, the way I've always been."

He felt his friends' eyes on him as he walked towards the door.

"That's a miserable life," Prussia called after him.

Pausing with his hand on the door handle, Spain listened to France begin to collect his things behind him. After a moment longer, he turned back around with one of the most genuine smiles he'd ever worn. "I'm happy."

The others didn't respond. Prussia's slightly reddened face from the drink seemed tired, and he crawled over to fall onto the sofa that France had left. France – now with his things – walked over to Spain, slightly unsteady on his feet.

"Thanks for tonight Prussia darling!" France sung. "Have fun tidying up in the morning!"

"West'll do it."

And with that, Spain and France left Prussia's house. Stepping out into the chilly night air, Spain pulled his coat around him tighter. Alongside France, he started the long walk home. They were silent for the most part, but as they reached the place where they would go separate ways, France slowed.

"How do you know Romano doesn't feel the same way as you?" he asked, peering up at the dark sky overhead.

"It's a nice thought, but I'm still just 'Boss' to him," Spain shrugged. And it was a nice thought; one that he'd dreamt about countless nights. But he'd locked such hope away as just that: a nice thought.

France's eyes moved back to Spain. "You should take the chance. Even if it goes wrong, you can work it out."

"I already told you, I'm happy to stay by his side fore-"

"Count yourself lucky," France snapped, cutting Spain off midsentence. Rubbing his hands together to warm them, he began to go his own way. "Some people can't be with the one they love until the world ends."

Spain watched him until the night swallowed him up in the distance, slightly shocked at France's little outburst. Usually when he was drunk, he was more cuddly or flirtatious. Today he just seemed... strange.

Staring at the ground as he continued, Spain could only picture one face in his mind. One that warmed him up as he walked through the cold night. How long had it been since he'd first realised his feelings for his cute little henchman? He wasn't sure. One day, he'd looked up and seen Romano standing in front of him – all grown up, and standing on his own two feet as a country, no longer the little thing he'd once been given as an underling – and yet, instead of feeling sad or nostalgic, Spain's heart had been snatched. Romano had unknowingly been keeping his heart hostage ever since.

There was a small buzz in his pocket as his phone rang. Blinking out of his thoughts, Spain hurried and checked the call ID. His lips pulled into a smile as he pressed the green button and held it to his ear.

"Where the hell are you, bastard?"

Romano's voice was almost rejuvenating.

"On my way home, mi corazón!" Spain reassured him, his legs automatically moving a little faster.

"Fuck, have you been drinking?" Romano groaned.

"Si!"

"Oh _joy_. Well hurry it up. I'm at yours now."

Spain felt his stomach flip happily. "Hm? Why?"

"Why the hell not? Just hurry home, idiot. And sober up! I don't want you stumbling in front of a car or something equally as stupid."

There was a click before Spain heard the dial tone. Unable to remove the smile from his face, he held his phone to his chest for a moment and sighed. He wasn't that drunk, not at all. He just liked it when Romano got all protective of him when he was.

After learning that Romano was there waiting, getting home seemed more important than Spain's own life. So, with a smile on his face, he ran.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Wow thanks for all the support guys! I hope you all continue to enjoy it! :P _**

**_You guys should totally expect some shocking and unexpected plot twist coming up soon. Because I don't think I've ever written a story without one, it's strange XD_**

**_Italian - English translations are at the bottom of the page (they pretty much are just swear words)._**

**_Enjoy! :3_**

_Plot Twist: I blow up the world._

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Chapter Two:

The porch light was on when Spain returned home, and he felt comforted by the knowledge that _he _hadn't left it on. Hurrying up the path, his eyes trailed the windows for a figure. He may not have spotted the familiar shape of Romano standing inside, but he grinned as he noted the living room curtains drawn – the slightest bit of light poking out between them. As he pushed the door open, he only felt happier seeing a foreign pair of shoes lying in the hallway – having been apparently kicked off lazily.

Presuming Romano wouldn't be returning home this late, Spain made sure to lock up behind him before pulling off his own shoes and heading inside. Of course, he went straight to the living room.

The door was slightly ajar, the dull drone of the television the only sound from inside. Romano sat slumped in the sofa, his eyes closed and his chest rising and falling deeply. Smiling, Spain moved across the room as quietly as he could, leaning on the back of the sofa and looking down at the sleeping Italian.

Wondering how long he'd been waiting up, Spain shook his head as Romano shifted awkwardly – his neck would hurt if he slept in that position. Deciding to do the daring thing, he shook Romano's shoulder slightly.

"Roma, I'm home," he murmured. "You should go to bed now."

Groaning and turning away, Romano tried to shrug Spain's hand away – though there was nearly no effort in the shrug. "Fuck you," he mumbled into the cushion, apparently barely awake at all.

Shaking his head helplessly, Spain moved around to the other side of the sofa and tried to pull Romano up. He fought against it, mumbling inaudible obscenities, but in the end Spain managed to drag him into his arms.

"Just like when you were little," Spain chuckled as he waited for Romano's eyes to open.

They didn't, and the Italian just kept trying to pull away. "...sleep, bastard," he grumbled.

"Yes, yes," Rearranging him, Spain tried to wrap Romano's arms around his neck – hoping to give him a piggy back to a proper bed. "Can you at least hold on for me?"

Romano seemed to at least agree to that, and let his head fall against Spain's shoulder as he was lifted off the sofa. He was quite a bit heavier than he used to be, but Spain didn't mind – and he carefully held onto the Italian as he made his way upstairs to the guest bedroom. He almost stumbled as he kicked the door open, but managed to stay just steady enough to get inside and sit down on the bed. Reaching up to unhook Romano's arms from his neck, Spain laughed again as he realised Romano wasn't going to let go that easy.

"Roma..." he sighed.

"Vaffanculo..."

Allowing himself a brief moment to just feel the warmth of Romano against his back, Spain pried his arms away. Romano immediately collapsed, turning onto his front and burying his head into the pillows with a groan.

Spain didn't move for a while, just sat there and watched as the Italian shuffled about until he was comfortable. The smile wouldn't leave his face, but it didn't really matter. He stood up and tugged the blanket from under Romano so he could throw it over him. Not letting himself pause again, he headed out the room. He was already in his own room when he realised that he'd left Romano's door ajar. He smirked at the old habit, and laughed at the image of fully-grown Romano running into his room after a bad dream.

It was a nice thought.

* * *

As he heard the creak of the door, Romano let his eyes open properly. Turning his head to the side to look at the space Spain once filled. Had the idiot left the door open on purpose, or was he just stupid? Who was he kidding? Spain was just treating him like a kid again.

Groaning, he hauled the covers over his head, Romano tried to go back to sleep. It would have been a lot easier if it wasn't for the fact his skin was burning wherever Spain had touched him. Curling up, he closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath. He tried as much as possible to erase all memory of Spain's touch from his mind, if only to sleep well tonight. Why hadn't the idiot just let him sleep downstairs? He'd just managed to stop worrying about Spain drunkenly falling into a river long enough to doze off. The bastard wasn't even drunk.

So, that meant he'd been worrying all this time over nothing. Wow, that was... really... really irritating.

Getting angrier and angrier, Romano tossed aside the cover and clambered out of bed, dragging a pillow along with him. Storming out of his room and heading straight down the hall to Spain's, he began muttering under his breath again. Kicking Spain's bedroom door open and causing the older country to give a yelp in surprise and jolt upright in bed.

"You fucking bastard!" Romano screamed, hurling the pillow across the room.

Spain let out a small 'oof!' as the pillow hit the side of his face – not exactly Romano's best shot, but good enough to let out some of his aggravation.

"Vai all'inferno!"

He marched over to the bed, snatching pillows from right beside Spain and continued to hit him with them. The Spaniard flinched and held his hands up to try and block the attack, reaching out he grabbed Romano's wrists to stop him and gave him a pull.

Caught off guard, Romano tumbled forward – landing awkwardly on the bed, half on top of Spain who fell back along with him.

Whilst Romano was too embarrassed and surprised to move straight away, Spain was laughing hysterically beside him. "Ah, I knew you weren't completely asleep! You used to do the same thing when you were younger," he said as he wrapped his arms around the Italian.

Gritting his teeth, Romano wriggled against the hold, "Get off!"

"But I'm comfy! Hey... I could probably just _sleep _like this," Spain smirked.

"Don't you fucking dare!"

Spain tightened his hold and pretended to snore loudly. Stopping in his half-hearted struggle, Romano let himself sink into the stupid and uncomfortable embrace for a moment.

"Romano?" Spain asked, apparently noting his sudden stillness. His arms slackened, allowing Romano a chance to push himself onto his knees. Spain reached up and placed a hand on his cheek, his eyebrows furrowing in worry.

Romano could only grimace. How much longer did he have to put up with this brainless idiot? Well, he didn't; he put himself through this. After all, why had he come over in the first place today? Just because he wanted to see the same bastard who he was now kneeling beside.

"Cretino..." he whispered. His eyes flickered over to the Spaniard's face, meeting his gaze. For once, he didn't look away. Instead, he began to lean forward.

Only when he was close enough to feel Spain's breath against his lips did Romano realise what he was doing. He stopped in his tracks; feeling the spike of heat as his cheeks reddened and staring back at Spain with eyes that were just as shocked.

"R-Romano...?" Spain stuttered.

Jumping back as if the word had stung him, Romano allowed the panic to set in.

What had he almost done?

As Spain begun to reach out for him again, Romano batted the hand away and ran out the room.

_What had he done?_

* * *

**_Translations!_**

_Vaffanculo = Fuck off_

_Vai all'inferno = Go to hell_

_Cretino = Idiot_


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks again everyone! :D Hope you enjoy this chapter too! (Look out for *cough* stuffs coming up Chapter 4...)**

Plot Twist: I kill off everyone.

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Chapter Three:

Spain was left on his bed, propping himself up with one arm and still reaching out for Romano with the other. By the time the shock had worn off and he say up properly, Romano had apparently gone back to the guest bedroom and slammed the door shut loudly behind him. His mind raced to and fro from thought to thought: Should he run after Romano? Should he just pretend it never happened? Actually, what did just happen?

Oh, that was a good question...

Unfortunately, he didn't have time to sit around at work out whether Romano had just nearly kissed him or what it might have meant; Romano was clearly upset by it, and he wouldn't just sit by and let him shut himself in his room.

Pushing himself up, Spain hurried out the room and moved towards Romano's shut door. He knew there wasn't a lock on it, but he didn't just barge in – no doubt that would just anger the Italian. So, he knocked tentatively on the dark wood, listening to the covers ruffling inside the room.

"Roma..." Spain called out softly.

"Fuck off!"

Somehow, the voice still brought a relieved smile to Spain's face. Just from those two words, he knew that Romano was neither crying nor angry. Well, Romano was always angry – but he wasn't any angrier than normal.

"I'm coming in."

"No you fucking aren't!"

"Yes I am!" Spain sung as he pushed the door open, poking his head inside first to look around for the Italian. It didn't take long to spot him; sitting facing away in the centre of the bed, bundled completely in the covers. The smile only grew on Spain's face as he slipped inside the room and shut the door behind him as quietly as possible – not that Romano didn't already know he was in, of course.

Perching himself on the edge of the bed, his body half-turned to keep his eyes on Romano, Spain let out a small sigh. He didn't speak – Romano would do that soon enough – but he had to resist the urge to just wrap his arms around the other nation. Using one hand to hold himself up, he kept the other holding firmly onto his knee to stop himself from reaching out and possibly scaring Romano.

"It didn't mean anything!"

There it was.

Spain's smile softened, and he turned away. "I know, don't worry."

"WHAT?"

Both nations spun around to look at one another; Romano because he was angry, and Spain because he was surprised. Thanks to his sudden movement, the covers hand half fallen down around Romano. He stared at Spain, his face redder than it would normally have been, and his expression apparently torn between being annoyed and upset.

"R-Roma?" Spain asked, slightly nervous.

"What do you mean 'I know'? Don't just be so sure so quickly!" Romano yelled.

"But you said it didn't mean anything!"

"It didn't!"

"So what are you mad about?"

Romano grew even more aggravated. Crying out in irritation, he threw himself down onto the mattress – burying his head in the pillow and trying to pull the covers over him again. Protesting against his actions, Spain leaned across to try and pry the covers away from him; not wanting to just leave Romano mulling in his own anger for any longer.

"Talk to me!" Spain ordered. "Tell me what's the matter."

"Fuck off, bastard!"

Spain let out a groan as Romano tried to kick him away. "Stop swearing!" He clambered further onto the bed, aiming to grab Romano's head. Once again, the two found themselves fighting it out. Spain may have been retorting against Romano's abusive outbursts, but he was trying not to laugh whilst doing so. Eventually, Romano was facing him properly, and managed to push him away. Spain didn't fight against it, since he needed to move away to let out a laugh.

Romano sat up, pouting in the exact same way he did when he was just a kid. He'd given up on the covers – Spain had managed to kick them off the bed during the fight – but he held a pillow to him like some stroppy child.

"Ok, ok, Roma," Spain chuckled. "I'm sorry. I'll stop now, promise."

Romano glowered at him. "You better."

Silence fell between them as Spain stopped laughing. It was as if the atmosphere suddenly changed – neither wanting to break the silence or the eye contact. Actually, Spain dared to wonder if this atmosphere had always been there, he'd just been piling jokes on top of it.

After taking a deep breath, Romano caved and looked down – his face still redder than Spain thought it should have been. He didn't look away for some time; he never did like looking away from that Italian idiot.

Realising Romano was shuffling uncomfortable under his gaze, Spain looked away. A blush crossed his cheeks lightly as he forced out a brief laugh.

"Ah, well," he begun, trying to find words. "If you're really ok, then maybe I should go back to bed. It's been a long night."

He stood up, but there was a tug on his shirt that made him pause. Looking back down, he was surprised to see Romano had reached out to stop him – though there wasn't anyone else who could've done it.

"Just wait a moment..." he mumbled, refusing to look up.

Spain's chest tightened as he looked down at the blushing Italian. Romano looked so meek all of a sudden, and there was nothing he wanted to do more than just hold him.

Actually...

He couldn't help it...

Turning, Spain reached down to cup the Italian's face with his palm. He was already leaning in when Romano turned to see what he was doing.

Spain's sense kicked in at a similar time that Romano's had – with their lips just barely apart, feeling one another's breath. He didn't jerk away, but he did regret what he was doing and gulped down the rest of his urges. He was about to apologise, to move his lips up to Romano's forehead and then leave the room to be plagued by both guilt and regret for the rest of the night...

...but Romano moved first.

Spain's eyes widened a moment as he first felt Romano stretch up a little to make their lips meet, but the longer he felt the contact, the more he fell into the softness of Romano's lips. Letting his eyes close lightly, he pulled Romano further towards him – their lips beginning to move slowly against each other.

And then it ended.

Breaking apart ever so slightly to breathe again, Spain kept his eyes closed for a moment longer than necessary to try and commit the moment to memory. When his lids finally opened, he stared down at Romano's disbelieving eyes.

"I..." Romano choked out. "I... just..."

"Don't," Spain begged, pressing his forehead against Romano's. "Please, just, don't."

He pressed their lips together again, this time moving forward and kneeling back on the bed to be more level with Romano. Their lips worked faster this time, more desperate. Nipping at Romano's bottom lip lightly, Spain waited for him to open his mouth wider and let their tongues meet. Though seemingly nervous, Romano didn't disappoint.

Just as the first did, the kiss ended too quickly.

"You better not just be feeling fucking sorry for me," Romano growled.

Sighing in amusement, Spain grazed his lips across the Italian's cheek before resting his head on his shoulder. "And you better not just be playing with my feelings."

"What feelings?" Romano scoffed, though there was something suspiciously like hope in his voice.

Lifting his head again, Spain smiled and stroked Romano's cheek. "These feelings."

And once again their lips met.


	4. Chapter 4

This was a surprisingly difficult chapter to write... there were too many ways it could go! .

Anyways, hope you enjoy it! :D

Plot Twist: Spain and Romano clearly won't be a couple at the end.

* * *

Chapter Four:

Trailing his hand down Romano's side, letting it linger at his waist lightly, Spain tried to push Romano back down on the bed. It seemed the Italian wasn't too keen on that idea though. Spain felt Romano frown into the kiss, pushing back against them to stay sitting – as if trying to make sure he stayed level with Spain in order to win some sort of unspoken competition. His lips became more aggressive too; but Spain didn't mind that part at all.

Silently agreeing to not make Romano lie down just yet, Spain let his fingers dance lightly at Romano's hip – slipping under the edge of his top to feel the warm skin underneath. Now he was sure that Romano wasn't going to pull back – after all, there was no way he'd kiss that hungrily if he didn't want this just as much – Spain let his other hand move down too. He fumbled at the fabric at Romano's hips, hesitating slightly before pulling the top up.

"Roma..." Spain chuckled against the Italian's lips as he realised Romano wasn't planning to move his lips just yet. He must have been out of it, for he suddenly jerked away from Spain, blushing a brilliant red.

"I can do it myself!" he complained, snatching his top fabric from Spain and tugging it over his head. Spain didn't protest, simply laughed again as Romano threw the t-shirt across the room carelessly.

Romano hesitated, like he only just realised this wasn't exactly an everyday occurrence that he should just jump into. His eyes dropped and Spain worried that he saw a little bit of guilt in his expression – which only made him feel a little more uncertain. Still, Spain had been pining silently after Romano for years now, and whilst he was terrified of scaring Romano off, he couldn't just let it end after he'd had a taste, could he?

Cupping Romano's cheeks yet again to force the Italian to look at him, Spain gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile – the worst thing he could do now was show his own insecurity. It seemed to work; Romano looked calm enough to give Spain the confidence to lean back in for another kiss.

It was softer this time, and almost more enjoyable in a different way to the ones before. It was easier to sink into without losing yourself completely. This time when Spain pushed against him, Romano didn't fight back and Spain managed to lower them both down. His hands grazed against Romano's skin, following every curve, as he sighed contently into the kiss. As Romano's hands gripped tighter around Spain's neck, pulling the two closer together, Spain couldn't help but chuckle lightly.

There was a sharp pain on his lower lip, making the Spaniard flinch. Pulling his head back, he blinked down at Romano in shock.

"Did you just bite me?" he asked, trying to hold back another smirk.

"Stop laughing, bastard," Romano growled. He turned his head away, sucking at his own lips.

Shaking his head with a smile, Spain pushed himself up and started to unbutton his shirt – his eyes never leaving Romano's blushing face. The Italian stole a glance now and then, growing either more impatient or uncomfortable – Spain couldn't work out which. Eventually, Romano turned his head properly and glared up at Spain.

"How long are you fucking taking? It's not a strip tease!"

"It could be," Spain laughed.

"No."

Dropping his shirt to the floor a lot less violently than Romano had, Spain lowered himself back down, grinning broadly as he stroked Romano's cheeks. "Si, Roma."

Their lips met yet again, but they didn't stay together for long. Spain trailed kisses along Romano's jaw line, up to his earlobe and back down his neck once more; revelling in the knowledge that the Italian's breathing was growing heavier. Picking a spot near his collarbone, Spain bit down lightly – smirking as he heard the surprised gasp it drew out. As his hands wandered downwards, he felt his own body heating up more and more – the anticipation building.

It wasn't until his fingers were threatening Romano's trousers that Spain reminded himself that this had the potential to break apart the relationship the two of them had. Whether it would be for the better or worse, they would have to see. Still, giving himself a moment to build up his own confidence, Spain lifted his head again to peer down at the Italian.

Romano's eyes opened as he felt Spain freeze, staring back with a frown that was from embarrassed, not anger – a sight that was surprisingly encouraging from Spain. Neither spoke, and Spain's hands didn't do any speaking for them either, so as the silence grew more disconcerting for both of them, Romano scowled.

"W-what?"

"Roma... if–"

"Che cazzo!" Romano groaned, flinging his arms over his face and pushing himself into the pillow – like he was trying to get as far from Spain as possible. Naturally, Spain was about to jump away from the Italian completely, but something forced him to stay exactly where he was. "I fucking knew it..."

"Romano?"

"You said you weren't playing with me, bastard." Romano's voice grew quieter.

After taking a moment to process the words, Spain smiled and pulled Romano's arms away. The Italian didn't even resist thankfully. "Roma... I was just going to say I'd stop if you didn't like it."

Romano stared back with narrowed eyes. "Cretino..." he whispered as he pulled Spain's face back towards him. "If I don't like something, I'll make sure you damn well know it."

Beaming, Spain showered the Italian's features with little kisses; his nose, his eyelids, his forehead, his chin. Romano squeezed his eyes shut; muttering complaints under his breath about the 'clinginess', but he didn't stop it. Finally, as Spain left the last kiss on Romano's lips, his hand began prying at the trouser button. He could feel Romano trembling a little with nerves under him, but it didn't matter – he'd soon forget about that.

"H-hey!"

Romano wriggled uncomfortably as he noticed Spain slowly pushing his trousers down.

"Problem?" Spain asked with a slightly darkening smile, not slowly as he pushed away the fabric as far as he could without moving.

"Well... o-of course!" Romano complained, trying to turn away but Spain was pinning him in place.

"If you really don't want to, then I'll stop, but..." Spain's hand slipped into Romano's pants, making him flinch. "Shouldn't I finish what I started?"

Romano didn't protest anymore, though his face did flush even more of an impressive red. Spain smiled and wrapped his hand around the Italian, beginning to move it slowly and watching each shaky breath Romano let out. His eyes flickered up to see the familiar curl, and Spain had to bite his lip at the thought of daring to pull it.

His hand moved faster, and Romano's gasps became louder, a soft moan escaping now and then. The sounds were enough to make Spain's stomach clench and his body to burn - as if Romano's sweat covered skin wasn't doing that enough already. Watching as Romano cringed and twisted under him, Spain finally allowed his free hand to move up and knot in the Italian's hair. Edging its way across, his fingers gasped at the infamous curl and gave a small tug.

"Fuck!" Romano groaned, his body contorting under Spain. His eyes snapped open and a snarl escaped from his lips. "What do you think...!" He trailed off, gritting his teeth as Spain pulled again – this time moving his hand quicker too.

Romano's breaths grew shorter; his fingers dug into Spain's shoulders as he tried (and failed) to keep back as much of the moans he was letting out. With each passing moment, Romano's pants became louder. Unable to just keep watching, Spain pressed his mouth against Romano's again; taking complete charge the kiss, since the Italian seemed to have no control over his body anymore.

Romano's whole body stiffened. Groaning against the kiss desperately as his hips lurched. Spain felt the Italian come in his hand, and waited – keeping his lips moving against Romano's whilst until his body relaxed again.

Yanking his head back from Spain, gulping in air like he had been suffocating, Romano covered his eyes. His whole body continued to tremble under Spain.

"Roma?" Spain whispered, nuzzling against the Italian's ear contently.

"D-don't you want... to..." Turning to look at Romano in confusion, Spain tried to take in his embarrassed face that was so frantically trying to recover from the sudden release, as well as try to say something.

"Hm?"

"You..." Romano's eyes glanced here and there awkwardly. "You must want... something... too..."

Spain's eyes positively sparkled with glee at hearing Romano say that.

"Don't fucking look at me like that!"

"Sorry, Roma," Spain beamed, cuddling Romano tighter. "It's fine though, don't push yourself."

"Are you sure...?"

"Si, si," He kissed Romano's cheek. "Just let me sleep here tonight, and I'll be happy."

"You're too easily pleased... bastard."


	5. Chapter 5

_Hmm... this chapter turned out to be both longer and more serious than I intended. Oh well! Super sorry about the long wait! Thanks for all the support, I shall be sure to update more often if I can! Hope you enjoy ^.^_

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Chapter Five: 

Usually, the Spaniard would get up and have breakfast without even needing to fully open his eyes, but today it was probably necessary to look at the world properly. The first order of business was to examine the cause of the unpleasant draft that reached his chest, and the even more unpleasant emptiness in his arms.

Prying his eyelids apart and rubbing away the worst of the sleep with his hand, he glanced across at where a certain Italian should have been sleeping to find nothing but crumbled bed sheets. Spain frowned; he should have held on to Romano tighter whilst they were asleep. Groaning as he forced his tired joints to get out of bed, he made a mental note to pin Romano in place throughout the whole night next time.

The half-serious thought was used to keep the real fear at bay. Romano hadn't just run off… right? He was probably just in the shower or went to the bathroom… right?

The worry in his stomach only built as he stepped over his shirt from last night and noted the lack of the Italian's clothes. He peered out into the corridor to see the bathroom door was ajar. The light wasn't on though. _Joder…_ Spain thought to himself, his stomach doing a little flip of panic.

Scratching his head, he began to make his way downstairs. The hall lights weren't on, so it didn't look that promising, but… that was just because it was getting light outside, surely? I mean, Spain barely opened the curtains in the house until the sun was high and he was dressed – it saved him from accidentally flashing his neighbours… like the last fifteen times.

The living room was empty and unlit too.

It wasn't like Spain still lived in the huge house he used to when Romano was little; there weren't as many rooms for the Italian to hide away in. Though, Spain still had hope as he moved across the living room to the kitchen door. He said a silent prayer as he pushed it open.

Romano's eyes flickered up to meet Spain's as the door opened, only to immediately drop back to the coffee he was making.

Giving a small sigh of relief, Spain's whole face softened at the sight of the Italian. He let the door shut behind him as he slipped into the room and sat down at the small table. The smile never leaving his face as Romano moved around the kitchen liked it was his own.

"W-what?" the Italian grumbled as he took out a plate, noting Spain's dazed smile.

"Nothing!" Spain quickly assured him cheerfully, taking in the blush on Romano's cheeks. Romano continued to put some bread on his plate and started searching a cupboard for something to put on it. He seemed to know where everything was better than Spain did, which Spain found hilarious. "Making yourself at home?"

"Why's your jam in the cupboard and not the fridge, idiot?" was the only reply he got.

Eventually, as Romano sat down opposite Spain with his bread and coffee, Spain chuckled and tilted his head to the side. "Why didn't you turn any lights on?" Even the kitchen light was off – though the blinds were open in the dining room next door, and some light spilled over from there.

"I didn't need them," Romano shrugged.

"I might have."

"You were asleep."

Spain grinned. "That I was… that I was."

Romano just bit into his bread, flicking through a gardening magazine that had been sitting on the table for weeks. If he was aware of Spain's constant stare, he didn't show it.

"Didn't you make any for me?"

"You were asleep." Romano didn't even look up.

A pout appeared on Spain's face – partly due to the response, and partly due to Romano's lack of response. He hadn't exactly thought how this morning would go after last night, but he hadn't imagined Romano to be like this. Though, Spain guessed he should have known better to expect some grand romantic movie ending just after one night of… whatever last night was.

Finally noticing Spain's sudden silence, Romano glanced at him over the brim of his coffee mug as he took a sip. His eyes giving away nothing for perhaps the first time in his life. Before Spain knew it, Romano was pushing his half-eaten bread towards him.

"I'm not hungry anymore."

Blinking down at it, Spain couldn't help but smile again. It wasn't like he was actually hungry – he'd only asked the question to make conversation and get some sort of reaction – but he was grateful for the gesture and took a bite gratefully.

"_Gracias_, Roma!"

"No need to look so happy about it," Romano muttered as he turned another page of the magazine – judging from how little his eyes moved, Spain guessed he wasn't actually reading it.

The two ate and drank in silence after that; Spain's eyes never leaving Romano's, and Romano's never leaving the magazine. The _thing _that hung between them was suffocating, but Spain didn't know if he was supposed to outright address it, or wait for some sort of sign from the Italian. Knowing Romano, he wouldn't appreciate either.

Though it seemed Spain wasn't the only one being weighted by the tension; the irritation grew more obvious in Romano's features as his frown deepened. It took a surprisingly long time (for him, anyway) before he finally snapped.

"Cut it out, bastard!"

Spain jumped in his seat. "Cut what out?"

"_It_! You know, just cut it out!" Romano snatched up the plate and moved across to the sink to start washing it up. Spain wasn't sure whether he should mention that he had a dishwasher – Romano probably already knew.

Watching Romano's back as he ran the water and started washing up the very few dishes there was, Spain's smile dropped. This was impossible; what was he supposed to do? Well, he figured there was no need to stress over it; whatever he did or said, Romano would complain about.

"Roma…"

"Shut up!"

"No!" Spain stood up, the chair clattering behind him and forcing Romano to look back in confusion. "Romano, we're not going to sit and pretend nothing happened!"

"I wasn't–"

"Yes you were, you _are_!" Spain unconsciously clenched his fists. Romano just stared back at him wide-eyed; Spain _never _argued back, not like this. "I won't apologise for last night, you had plenty of chances to stop me if you didn't approve, and you didn't – you said it was ok, didn't you?"

The Italian blushed violently, and dropped his gaze. "Y-yeah… but I–"

"Then we need to _talk_! I'm not the kind of guy to just sleep with people meaninglessly!"

The surprise on Romano's face was almost offensive; as if he'd really thought Spain was that kind of person. His eyes kept darting around the room, looking everywhere but at Spain.

"Roma…" Spain stepped forward, reaching out to tentatively touch the Italian's hand. He wanted to be firm; to prove that he wasn't going to sit back and ignore what had happened, but he also didn't want to scare Romano away. And if there was one thing he'd learned after all these years by Romano's side, it was that Italians scared easily. "I asked you not to play with my feelings."

There it was again; the surprise on Romano's face that shouldn't have been there.

Since he hadn't pulled away, Spain slipped his hand around Romano's, stepping a little closer. The Italian kept his head bowed and didn't say a word. It didn't matter: Spain would stand here waiting for as long as necessary.

"I…" Romano begun. "I never meant to… play with your feelings…"

This didn't exactly sound promising, but Spain didn't let himself react.

"Hell," Romano let out a scoff. "I don't even… I mean I… _Feelings?_"

"Is it really that surprising?" Spain murmured. "France and Prussia say I'm embarrassingly obvious."

"Well it's not to me!"

"I thought I made it obvious last night!"

Romano leaned back against the counter – pulling his body further from Spain's, but not making any effort to take his hand away. "I… you didn't–"

"Then tell me how!" Spain found his voice rising, growing more desperate. "Tell me how I'm meant to get it across to you, Romano! Tell me how to make you understand just how much I love you!"

At last, Romano lifted his head. His cheeks no longer as red as they had been, but his eyes wider than before. He didn't say anything, just stared at Spain like he'd heard something completely unbelievable. Spain wondered what he looked like through Roma's eyes: Pitiful? Stupid? Foolish? Yes, he was probably all those things; but hopefully he also looked genuine.

Since he received no reply, it was Spain's turn to drop his gaze. "It's not like I'm trying to force you to feel the same way… but… I can't keep it to myself anymore…" He clutched at his chest. "I have tried, you know. I've tried to look at you as just my little underling, my little Romano. I spent _years_ trying to keep you as just a little kid in my head but… it's hard, Roma… it's hard and it hurts. And it's only getting harder and hurting more after last night. So please, _please_ don't just act like it was nothing. Just… give me a proper answer, no matter what it is."

If you had told Spain yesterday morning that he would spill his heart to Romano today, he probably would have laughed or asked if you'd been smoking something with Netherlands; yet here he was, tearing his heart out and holding it out to Romano to use as he pleased.

"_Mio dio…_" Romano muttered. "I didn't ask for a schoolgirl love confession, you know…"

Spain had to look up again; he couldn't judge Romano's reaction from his tone. Not that Romano's expression gave much away either – his eyes were cast downwards slightly, and he looked more confused than anything else.

"If… if you felt like that, you should have said something earlier," Romano's eyebrows narrowed. "Don't make me the cause of your problems without telling me–"

"Huh? No, Roma, I–"

Romano glared at Spain. "You know, I like it a lot better when you're too soft to interrupt me," he growled – though it wasn't as fierce as it usually was. With Spain successfully silenced, he continued. "Not only is it stupid, it's selfish to just go on feeling that way."

Well, Spain wasn't entirely sure how it was selfish, but he decided not to question it right now.

"I've always noticed it, you know. How you still treat me like a little kid," Romano's eyes didn't stray from Spain's now, and suddenly, Spain wished they would; they were too serious, too intense for him to feel comfortable. "I hate it."

That stung.

"I hate being babied by you. I hate that you act like I'm some innocent and stupid brat. I hate that you treat Veneziano like more of an adult than me – he's the younger brother, damn it!" Spain suddenly found his other hand caught by Romano's free one. The Italian tugged him closer, just slightly. "I've spent all this time trying to be an adult, an independent country. Not to match Veneziano, not to impress or prove myself to any other bastard out there. Just so you'll damn well _look at me._ Don't ruin all my work by forcing yourself to see me as a kid. It pisses me off."

He was still being tugged closer, or was it him that was moving closer of his own accord? Spain wasn't really sure. Either way, he didn't pull back, and neither did Romano. "So, I'm allowed to see you as…"

"Let me put it this way for your dumbass head," Spain wanted to warn Romano of how close they now were. "If you see me as anything other than an _adult_, I'll going to… to…"

_Too close, Roma, we're too close. _

"…Rip out all your tomato plants."

"You wouldn't dare," Spain breathed.

Romano smirked. "Watch me, bastard."

So, once again, their lips met.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six:

If there was one thing Romano had to say about this kiss, he'd have to say it was more natural than the ones from last night. The ones upstairs had been needy and overwhelming and amazing, but this one… it just felt like it was a perfectly normal thing for them to do. The way their lips moved together, the way their fingers knotted with each other's, everything was just _natural._ They didn't even have to think.

That felt even better.

Even with his eyes closed, he had a clear image of Spain in his mind. Romano had burned the idiot into the back of his eyelids years ago, but with each touch now, Spain only pushed his way further into the Italian's head. He engulfed every corner until Romano was drowning in just the thought of him; though, the process had probably started long ago, and the two had simply kicked down the floodgates last night.

Romano felt Spain moving closer again. The hold on his hands tightened as the Spaniard pushed further against him, sighing contently into the kiss and – much to Romano's slight irritation – smiling through it with that typical stupid smile. Really, this guy was supposed to be the older one; didn't that mean he should act less like a giddy schoolgirl and more like a mature adult? Well, it wasn't like Romano _disapproved _of Spain enjoying the kiss, of course.

He fought back a smile of his own as his fingers fought Spain's for the dominant hold.

"You know..." Spain broke away, dragging his lips down Romano's chin. "You didn't technically give me an answer."

"You didn't technically ask a question," Romano retorted with a grumble.

Spain moved back and blinked in surprise as he realised Romano was right. Letting out a laugh, he untangled his hands from the Italian's and wrapped his arms around him, nuzzling into his cheek. "I'm not too sure what question to put forward, if I'm honest," he sighed.

"Well then don't complain that I haven't answered," Romano told him as he sunk into Spain's arms a little more.

He didn't have much time to get comfortable, however, as Spain jumped away from him suddenly – his hands gluing to Romano's hips as a smile plastered across his face.

"Well then," Spain begun. "Marry me, Roma!"

"_Cretino_!"

"Ow!"

Spain rubbed the top of his head with a pout as Romano folded his arms across his chest. "You're the one who wanted to take this seriously, bastard!" he complained – trying to hide his embarrassment as best he could. You'd think this idiot would remember that Romano had _technically _accepted a 'proposal' quite a while ago. Oh well, Spain probably wasn't thinking about that too much…

"Fine," Spain grumbled. His expression immediately shifted back to a positive one as he leaned towards Romano. Placing his hands back on the Italian's hips and stroking his lips over Romano's ear, he whispered, "Try and love me, Romano?"

His whole body seemed to heat up just from the words. Biting his lip, Romano buried his head in Spain's shoulder. The familiar scent may have seemed calming, but it sent his senses on high alert. What was this guy trying to do to him?

"I didn't actually need a question." His voice was muffled, his lips trailing across Spain's skin as he spoke. He didn't care though; he was happy just to close his eyes and stand here in Spain's arms. Not once, not once in all these years, had he let himself truly enjoy any contact with the country he thought only saw him as a child to look after. Well, he was through with that now. Spain had pretty much given him permission to like it, and so it didn't matter if it was 'right' or 'wrong', Romano was going to damn well soak up every bit of happiness he could.

If Spain was waiting for an actual answer, he must have given up, since after a moment of the two drinking in the silence, his lips started to caress Romano's neck once again. Gripping at Spain's waistband (for no reason other than there was no shirt to hold on to… of course…), Romano inhaled deeply.

"Roma…" Spain breathed the word out, sending a shiver down the Italian's spine. He must have noticed the reaction, as he chuckled quietly and pulled away a little. Guiding Romano's chin upward, Spain smiled before making their lips meet once more.

Clenching his eyes shut even tighter, Romano's hands reached up and locked themselves in Spain's hair – stubbornly holding the pair together at all costs. With each taste, he just wanted more, and by-god he'd get it. Who was going to stop him? Spain? From what he'd seen last night and this morning, there was more chance of the fridge coming to life and separating them than Spain.

Before he knew it, Romano felt his whole body being dragged forward. He was in no mood to break apart from Spain right now, so clung to him tighter than before. It only made the walking harder as the Spaniard tried to lead him somewhere. Didn't he realise that Romano was trying to kiss him here?

He felt Spain turning the pair around, felt the little kitchen table edge hitting the backs of his legs, felt Spain pushing further and further into the kiss, and finally understood where this was leading.

"Not on the fucking table, idiot!" Romano snarled against Spain's lips.

They still didn't break apart, but Spain laughed. "The _what _table?"

"Shut the hell up, bastard," Romano pushed back against Spain to try and take control. All it achieved was another minute of tightly locked lips. "It'll fucking break if you lean on it, never mind do what you're thinking."

"Roma!" Spain complained, his hold tightening. Still, Romano's point must have been valid, since Spain started leading him away again. To start with, Romano had a nasty feeling they were heading towards the dining room – which may have had a sturdier table, but it was still a fucking _table – _but soon realised he was being dragged to the living room. Yes, a much better option.

Spain bumped into pretty much everything on the way; the doorframe, the coffee table, even the lamp in the corner of the room (how they ended up there, Romano didn't know); but eventually he felt the two of them falling. Romano's back hit the sofa first, and Spain's body wasn't far behind – hovering over him, their mouths still entwined.

"Why'd you have to get dressed again?" Spain grumbled when they at last broke apart and he started fumbling with the bottom of Romano's top.

"You have creepy neighbours." Pushing Spain back a bit, Romano sat up as best he could and went to take his top off. He paused as he noted the gleeful look on Spain's face and glared. "Stop it."

Before Romano could do anything else, Spain hurtled forward and playfully nipped at the Italian's nose. "I'm not going to stop this morning, Romano." The words sounded strangely like a warning, but Romano thought nothing of them until his t-shirt was half-way over his head.

Then it clicked.

"Hang on!" He tugged his top back down again, face flustered. "Why do I get the feeling that I'm the bottom?"

Spain blinked and blushed, a giddy giggle escaping his lips. "Well, don't you just assume–"

"Why do I have to be the bottom? You be the bottom!"

"That's weird though!"

"Why's it not weird for me to be the bottom?"

"Because you're… you're…" Spain was either lost for words or debating whether to say them out loud. Something told Romano it was the latter, and he did _not _like that.

Spain eventually decided on "It just feels more natural that you're the bottom!"

"But I don't want to be, bastard."

"Romaaaa, you're ruining the mood!"

"What mood? There was never any fucking mood! I gave you jam and bread and suddenly you're spouting girly love confessions!"

Spain didn't retort, just sat there with a frown on his face that was somewhere being a pout and a serious scowl. The two stared at one another for some time; waiting for the other to crack first, but it seemed like neither would. At least, not on that topic. What did crack them, was the close proximity to one another and yet not doing anything but staring. Almost in sync, they grabbed for each other once again.

The hot breath, the wet and swelling lips, the sweating hands clutching at one another, it was all intoxicating. Enough to get drunk off. Spain's hands were begun wandering as Romano bit and sucked at his collarbone, their chests heaved with excited and hurried breaths –

_Ding-dong._

The two froze momentarily, but Spain immediately begun to continue once more and Romano happily follower suit. The only mention of hearing the doorbell was Spain's deep mutter "We're not at home" to which Romano replied "Thank god."

_Ding-dong. Ding-dong._

"I'm going to beat the living shit out of them if they don't piss off," Romano grumbled.

Spain was more concerned by rubbing his hands along Romano's legs to care about much else. "Ignore them."

_Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Ding-dong._

"_Che cazzo_?"

Romano pushed Spain off him so roughly that he nearly tumbled clean off the sofa. Jumping up, the Italian stormed out of the room and up to the front door. The doorbell rang continuously. He didn't care about his ruffled clothes, or that his trousers had been pushed down a little further than they should have. He didn't even care that his hair was a mess or his face was still red with excitement; he just tore the door open.

"What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?" he screamed.

France stood opposite him; blinking at the sudden flood of curses that Romano proceeded to let out when he realised who it was. People on the street glanced over uncomfortably, but France stood his ground and waited for Spain to appear and save him from the Italian wrath – which, of course, happened not too much later.

Spain rushed out and pulled Romano aside, hushing him and pleading with him to hush. Though, the smile he then gave France wasn't exactly as polite as it usually was – something that Romano felt quite happy about.

"France?" Spain asked, not inviting him inside immediately like he usually did.

"_Espagne!_" France cried out. "England kicked me out, let me stay here!"

"You don't even live with that bastard!" Romano yelled, trying to fight his way past Spain's arm to punch the idiot on the doorstep.

France covered his eyes like some weak and weeping film heroine. "I can't go back to my house! It's so cold and lonely! My heart aches without my _Angleterre!_"

"I hardly think your shithole is colder than the eyebrow-bastard's," Romano spat.

Sadly, France had played the 'heart' card. That just so happened to be Spain's biggest weakness.

"Oh _Francia!_" Spain exclaimed, leaping forward to pull France into the house and shutting the door behind. "It's ok, we shall work this out! Tell us about it!"

Romano scowled as Spain led France towards the living room._ Merda._


End file.
